Chapter Twenty

Daryl leaned against the door jamb of the game room and watched as Sofia groaned. She didn't much like losing - even if it was a simple game of battleship - especially to a smug twelve-year-old boy. He might be her best friend, but he was a cocky little thing. Must come from having a cop for a dad.

He looked around, surprised Carol wasn't there with them when she rarely let the girl out of her sight. "Hey, Daryl, Sophia's mom said you were stuck with the dishes," Carl sniggered.

Daryl arched a brow at him and took another swig from the bottle of Wild Turkey Jenner had given him. "Somethin' wrong with that, boy?" He wasn't going to admit Jacqui and Andrea had come in to save him from the chore at the last minute.

"Er … no, but isn't that woman's work?"

Sophia threw one of the little boats at his head, the plastic ship glancing off his temple. "I'm not believing you just said that, Carl Grimes. Chores are chores, and it's everyone's responsibility to help. Or are you a sexist pig in training?"

Carl gaped at her, shaking his head. "No! I just thought -"

"Well, it's about time you changed your way of thinking," she fumed. She'd witnessed firsthand how Ed had treated her mother while he'd sat on his lazy behind and did nothing but criticize her. Then he'd beat her black and blue if it weren't done exactly how he liked. Carol had tried to protect Sophia from seeing the ugly reality of her marriage, but the girl was more intuitive than anyone really suspected.

"Soph," Daryl said, drawing her angry gaze away from her stuttering friend. "Cut him some slack, wouldja? Where's y' mama?"

"I think she went to her room," Sophia replied. She regarded him through a narrow-eyed gaze, zeroing in on the faint smile about his lips. Where was the perpetual scowl he normally wore, she wondered. She got up from her seat and approached him cautiously. "Daryl, are you okay?"

"Sure am, baby girl," he slurred. Then he stunned her to the tips of her toes by pulling her into a one-armed hug and dropping a kiss atop her head. "Don't stay up too late."

Carl's eyes bugged as he watched the hunter stumble from the room. "Was that -"

"Uh huh." She still couldn't believe it. He'd acted almost loving towards her. His stiff and sometimes cagey demeanor had given way to something a whole lot softer. It nearly brought tears to her eyes, to know he cared when her own father had never shown her an ounce of parental affection. Alcohol affected people differently though, and she wouldn't question it. She was just happy she didn't have to worry about her mother in his hands. She'd be able to rest easy knowing Carol would be just as safe as she always was with Daryl.

*.*.*

Daryl set the bottle down on the small dresser sitting at an angle in the corner of the room he'd be sharing with Carol. The queen-sized bed looked rather inviting with what he recognized as Carol's quilt draped over the top with the little blue and yellow flowers embroidered on it. Gawd, he was tired. He looked around, taking in the closed closet door, the small desk, the night table and lamp, ugly blue carpet … but no Carol. Where the hell was his woman?

He shook his head, trying to clear it. He was a little drunk, so what? After the mad dash to find a safe place at the start of the outbreak, having to adjust to life with the group. Getting to know Carol had made that a lot easier than it would have been otherwise. Then the events leading to him adopting Carol and her daughter into his life, Merle going missing, and the attack on the camp. Yeah, he fuckin' deserved to get shit-faced drunk at least once.

Jackson Dixon had been a right foul bastard under normal circumstances. Alcohol turned him into a demon spat out from the very pits of hell. Merle was pretty much the same when he did drugs, though with a healthy dose of sarcasm. Daryl simply lost his inhibitions and wallowed in a state of mellow bliss. Nothing bothered him, and the heavy weight of pain he carried around with him seemed to melt away. Yet now he was becoming a little concerned because Carol was nowhere to be found.

Daryl sat down and bounced a little, testing the mattress. Softer than what he was used to, but beggars couldn't afford to be choosy. It was a lot better than the beds he'd had to sleep on in some of the places he and Merle had rented. He pulled off his boots and belt, setting them next to the desk. Still no Carol. There was one place he hadn't checked, he thought, eyeing the lone door situated in the opposite wall.

His bare feet were more silent than usual against the carpet as he turned the knob and let himself into the bathroom. Success! He'd found her. Silly woman should have known better than to hide from him. "Carol …" Now he felt silly for the childish way he drew out her name. It was surreal the way the steam from the glass-enclosed shower fogged the room, as if he'd walked through the door into an mythical reality.

Carol shrieked, startled by the intrusion. "Daryl! What're you doing in here!?"

He shrugged. "Lookin' for you." She should have known that. He didn't like her far from his sight. Even in a place like the CDC - which seemed relatively safe - there were hidden dangers. Especially from what Jenner had told them over dinner.

"Well, get out!"

"Why?" he asked, leaning a hip against the white countertop with its double sinks.

He watched her shadow become still behind the wavy glass as she tried to come up with an excuse. He really didn't see the problem. Although he should have, right?

"Because I happen to be naked!" she hissed, more than a little indignant.

He grinned. "Want me t' get naked too? Then y' won't have t' be naked all by yerself." That made sense, he was sure of it.

The little squeak she made amused him, but all that changed in a heartbeat. Her foot slipped, and the sound was replaced by a clatter and an audible groan. "Ow!"

Daryl didn't hesitate to think about what he might find behind that closed glass door. He had heard her yelp of pain, and his feet moved accordingly, carrying him across the floor to investigate. He wrenched the door open. "What!? What happened?"

Carol screeched again and turned her back while her arms came up to cover her breasts. In the meantime, he was standing right behind her - fully clothed minus his boots - getting the full spray of the shower nozzle. "Daryl it's nothing! I just slipped and scratched my arm on the soap dispens -"

"Th' fuck is this?!" he roared, cutting her off.

*.*.*

Carol cringed at his tone. She wasn't used to him raising his voice to her, and she couldn't help it as her old instincts surfaced and had her curling her body in on itself. She had always before expected pain at that tone, a harsh hand and cruel words … not the feather light touch of his calloused fingers ghosting over the scars on her back or the muted choking sound coming from his throat as if he were trying to hold back a sob.

"It's nothing," she repeated. "Just old scars, Daryl."

But she could see it meant more to him as she glanced over her shoulder to see his stricken expression. She shivered despite the hot water pouring over them. He seemed fascinated, his hand trembling as he traced each one. "I wish I could dig 'im up an' kill 'im again," he rasped out, his throat thick with emotion.

"It's in the past where it needs to stay. I'm trying really hard to move forward, Daryl. I can't let what Ed did to me rule my future." She turned, one arm still covering her breasts from his downcast gaze. She could see the emotions warring on his face, and reached out to reassure him, her fingers coming to rest along his scruffy cheek. "It's okay now."

*.*.*

Daryl nuzzled into her palm, glad the shower was running so she couldn't distinguish the tears which flowed hotly down his face, his heart a mangled mess from what she must have suffered to have such marks permanently branded into her skin. "How?" he couldn't stop himself from asking. For some reason he couldn't explain, he just needed to know.

Carol didn't protest when his hands settled at her waist as he drew her forward to rest his brow to hers. He'd done this to her before, and she never failed to feel the strong connection between them. He was her friend, though … wasn't he? Just her friend, or did he feel more for her but was afraid to admit it? He sighed as his skin met hers, his nose running alongside her own, and she couldn't mistake the fumes of the alcohol he'd drunk.

Another difference between him and her former husband. Ed had been a cruel drunk whereas Daryl had seemed to mellow and become more affectionate. She wondered briefly if he would want more than she was ready to give. She bit her lip, her entire body trembling as his fingers once more moved around her back to trace her scars. She didn't know what to do, and it scared the hell out of her.

"Carol?"

What had he asked? "Wire coat hanger," she whispered, wondering if he could even hear her over the rushing water. "He'd had a bad day at work, and I made it worse when I asked him for the fees for Sophia's class trip." She jumped a little as his arms crushed her to him and he hid his face in her neck. How had it come about that she'd told him another of Ed's despicable acts and wound up comforting him? She was going to have to stop confiding bits of her past to him if it was going to hurt him so badly.

She winced at the tortured expression on his handsome face as he pulled back to look at her. He didn't say anything. What could he say, really? I'm sorry y' were married t' an asshole? I'm sorry y' were a stupid bitch who was dumb enough t' let your husband use y' as a punchin' bag? And she waited for him to say something to that effect, but the words never came. Instead he took her hands and guided them to the buttons on his wet shirt. When she hesitated, unsure exactly what he wanted her to do, he unfastened the first one for her.

*.*.*

Daryl felt as if his heart was going to punch through his ribs and beat right out of his chest. What the hell was he doing? Had he really just given her permission to take off his shirt, to see the scars which marred his own flesh? He made up his mind then to stay away from the tempting siren's call of whiskey. It made him do stupid shit which he always regretted the following morning. But there was that voice - it sounded suspiciously like Merle too, which was totally absurd and should have given him some warning - telling him he could trust her.

It was making his stomach hurt, wondering how she'd react to the scars on his torso. Would she look and be overwhelmed with pity, or would she empathize with him due to her own experiences? She wouldn't ridicule him, surely … not her. Not Carol. Yet he still felt as if he were dangling at the edge of a cliff hanging on by his fingernails.

When all the buttons had been freed of their holes, her eyes darted up to his, holding his gaze as she slid the wet garment from his shoulders to land with a plop against the tiles. His lips quirked up slightly to see the pink tinting her cheeks. Was she nervous, embarrassed to be naked with him? He realized suddenly he should be in a near state of panic, but he couldn't remember why. It felt good to be like this with her. It felt right.

His chest told a story, each scar representing either a victory or humiliation. They were a part of him he could no more erase than she could hers. He shivered as she trailed her fingers over the little white lines over his ribs. "Merle teachin' me how t' fight with a knife," he explained. "Don't worry. He got some too."

Carol glanced up at him in horror, wondering how the brothers could be so savage. She continued her exploration, enjoying the feel of his skin beneath the pads of her fingers. She didn't know why he was allowing her to familiarize herself with his body, but she was glad. He was strengthening the connection between them without even realizing it.

She grimaced as she came to a particularly nasty puckered scar just above his right hip bone. "Got shot savin' Marty's ass from that useless piece o' shit she'd shacked up with. Bullet went clean through, but I couldn't go t' th' hospital an' have 'em call th' cops. So, Merle patched me up," he supplied.

"There were a lot of times I couldn't seek treatment too." She swallowed thickly as he pulled her flush with his body, his hands tracing over the curve of her spine. It felt so good to be wrapped up in his embrace, so safe. He didn't overwhelm her or pressure her for anything. He simply held her tenderly, giving instead of taking. She'd never been held like that before, and she found herself wanting more.

For the first time in her life, she was actually grateful to the effects of alcohol. She was more than aware of Daryl's natural tendencies, to shy away from people, to avoid touch at all costs. He'd been more open with her as they grew closer, but this was more than she'd ever expected. She dropped the arm draped over her chest and wrapped it around his waist, closing that last gap between them.

He flinched when her fingers brushed against the scars on his back and drew in a shuddering breath. It never failed … Every time, that first touch brought with it the memories of his pain, his suffering. Those pretty lashes of hers, spiky with moisture, fluttered up and he could see the concern in her azure gaze. "Will you let me see?" she breathed, nervously waiting to see what he would do.

Still, he watched her wait so patiently for what seemed like forever before he gave her his back. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to relax, willing the voice of his father back to the darkest corners of his mind. Carol was light and good, tender and caring, gentle and loving. She wouldn't hurt him.

It was torture, waiting for her to say something … anything. And then her fingers were mapping the planes of his back and he saw heaven. With the utmost care, she caressed the thin purple scars over his left shoulder blade, the deeper mangled mess on his lower back … even those partially hidden by the demon tattoos. He leaned against the cool gray tiles of the shower and groaned as her arms wrapped about his waist from behind and he felt her warm breath fan out over his spine. Would she?

His body certainly hoped she would. She did, her lips pressing tiny kisses to the criss-crossed lines on his left shoulder. Gooseflesh erupted over his arms, and a tremor shot through him. Now his body responded to her in a whole different way, and he was acutely aware of her nakedness as pleasure tightened his skin, making every hair on his nape stand at attention. And that wasn't the only part of him applauding.

His hand covered hers where they rested on his belly above the waistband of his khakis, and her sweet voice only added to his growing desire for her. "Oh, Daryl, I wish I could be brave like you."

He huffed a laugh and turned back to face her. "Took a chance on a Dixon … cain't get much braver than that."

Carol snorted, and he was pleased he'd been able to amuse her. There wasn't enough laughter in her life. He smiled lazily at her, fascinated with what seemed like a permanent blush on her skin. His eyes followed it down the elegant curve of her neck and across her chest to her perfect breasts. God, he wanted to touch her so badly, but something held him back. Whether his own fears or afraid to take advantage, he didn't know. Instead, he buried his face against the crook of her neck and breathed her in, letting the intoxicating scent of jasmine and peony caress his battered senses.

Daryl's lips pressed into the tendon, his teeth scraping gently as her hands went to the waistband of his pants. He froze, giving himself a rough mental shake. What the hell was happening? They'd gone from giving comfort to one another and careened into no man's land where rules had caught the first flight out. Her fingers were already lowering the zipper, and in less time than it took to blink, she'd be discovering just how much he wanted her. There'd be no more secrets to hide from her.

Carol smiled and flushed a deeper shade of red. "Don't be embarrassed," she said, holding his wide-eyed gaze. "But it's not like you can get clean unless we take these off."

Hmm, he mused. She wanted him naked now? Perhaps things were looking up. He glanced down at his obvious erection. Things were definitely looking up. But they could just as easily get out of control if he let her touch him, even if it was with a sponge. "Um …"

"Turn around," she cooed sweetly. He bet she was more than skilled with dealing with a drunk husband. Dealing with a drunk Dixon was a whole other ballgame. He wondered if she was as affected by his nakedness as he was by hers. Oh, he was afraid he was in for a world of hurt before the deed was done.

He did as she asked, turning to face the wall. Her touch was firm but gentle as she began with his shoulders, and he rather enjoyed the slight abrasion of the sponge as it scrubbed the filth and grime from his skin. It was her accompanying hand gliding next to it that would ultimately be his undoing. He'd always admired her hands, delicate and graceful, capable of making such wonderful things to eat or soothing away the hurts of the world. Now that hand kneaded into his flesh, rubbing out the tension, touching parts of his body no one had ever touched but him.

Gentle pressure had him turning at her whim, and a slow smile curled his lips as his eyes closed in bliss. "I got somethin' else for y' t' rub if you've a mind," he teased. He didn't think she could flush more brightly.

Carol shook her head. "The only saving grace in this scenario is you're highly unlikely to remember this at all. You don't want me like that, Daryl … not when you can do so much better."

"Why would y' think so? Did Ed tell y' no one would ever want y' or somethin'?" he growled, taking the sponge and tossing it aside as the spray rinsed the soap bubbles down the drain. He could see the truth written all over her face. Daryl pulled her to him, one arm pressing her firmly against his body, so she could feel all of him. "Does that feel like I don't want y'?"

*.*.*

Carol gasped, her eyes slamming shut as she felt his cock press against her belly. As it was, she was already battling between what her mind was telling her and what her body seemed to want. Unfortunately, due to his inebriated state, her mind won. She wasn't even going to think of some of the things Ed had hurled at her over the course of their marriage. It was pointless when she'd made up her mind to move forward. "You're drunk, Daryl. If you were in your right mind -"

"I'd want y' just as much."

She shot him a dubious look, reaching behind him to turn off the water. But when she tried to move away and reach for a towel, he held on tighter. She didn't know what to think of the wicked smirk twisting his mouth, but she knew it didn't bode well. Before she knew it, his face was at the crook of her neck again and he was nuzzling like a big feral cat. One doing his damnedest to break down all the walls she'd constructed to protect her heart and cross a line he was sure to regret come morning.

Her arms lifted of their own accord to wrap around his broad shoulders. Whether she was willing to admit it or not, she was as touch starved as he was for a gentle hand and she literally craved him. He was a drug to her senses and she was steadily becoming addicted. He rubbed his scruff against the sensitive flesh at her throat and a wave of heat assaulted her.

"Cain't I at least have a kiss? Jus' one?" he whined. She could just imagine the puppy eyes if he'd raise his head to look at her.

"Daryl …" she mewled as his hot breath traveled up the column of her neck to nip at her ear. Gawd! Destruction …and thy name is Dixon. Oh, it was such a bad idea to give in. She pushed gently at his shoulders, and very lightly reached up to cradle his face in her hands.

His eager smile decimated the last of her resistance and she slowly drew him forward …

"Mom? Mom are you in there?" Sophia called through the door. "I'm going to bed now and was just wanting to say goodnight."

Carol blanched, and she quickly covered Daryl's mouth with her hand to stifle his curse. "Just give me a minute to throw some clothes on and I'll come tuck you in, baby."

"Ok, mom."

His hands reached for her, but she quickly evaded them, grabbing a towel and hurriedly drying off. Daryl banged his head back against the tiles and groaned as he heard the door close behind her. "Well. Just. Shit!"